


Spank

by Bofursunboundbraids, wanderingsmith



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin gets himself in trouble whose payback he enjoys far too much.  PWP smut, playful BDSM.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Set in Bofursunboundbraids's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/83326">These Precious Things</a> verse, some time in the years following the Reclaiming of Erebor</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> Written with [Bofursunboundbraids](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids) while following each other's random thoughts

Dáin smirked as he closed the heavy throne room doors behind himself, nodding at the grateful look the guards gave him.

"They're too old to be doing such things!"

Turning to his muttering boy, whose older and formerly grumpier namesake was so taken with his soft, pretty creature that after a mere week apart he couldn't bear to make the short journey to their sleeping chambers, nor even wait for his kin to leave the room, Dáin laughed, as amused by his Stonehelm's disgust as he was at his cousin's shameless behaviour.

He could remember a young Thorin Oakenshield being just as much of a stiff-faced traditional dwarf, teasing and snarking at Dáin for letting himself get frisky while courting his beautiful Ania. 

Clasping his Thorin's shoulder and following Erebor's heirs to the kitchens, Dáin wondered if he'd get away with paying back some of that teasing. Erebor's good Master Hobbit had some odd notions of what was acceptable. And a surprising temper.

Not to mention the king's adopted human daughter and *her* protectiveness. It was a wonder his cousin bothered to carry that pretty elvish blade of his at all anymore!

Might be a risky proposition, but SO worth it!

Though he'd noticed it had gotten deucedly hard to get the grinning sod his cousin had become to get pissed...

He never would've guessed that the serious eldest son of Thráin would one day become this besotted fool. And over a hobbit? What the deuce? The world is not what it once was.

Then he pauses, blinking at the image of Thráin and, he shuddered, old Thrór greeting the beguiled king and his soft, beardless consort up in the Halls.... Mahal.. he wasn't sure if he wanted to beg for a ring-side seat.. or ask to go to Valinor to avoid the war.

He laughed, ignoring the assorted princes' looks; no, no he wouldn't miss that for all the gold harps in Valinor!

\--

Seeing his consort walking up with a frown for Dáin that told him the hobbit had overheard the Iron hills king's latest attempt at clever mocking, Thorin smiled brightly at his cousin as he made a show out of pulling his first line of defence to him. 

"I don't understand how you can be so cruel, cousin. It troubles my-" he leaned down to drop a kiss on his scowling mate's temple, "Loves," Bilbo's head tilting to no doubt glare at him gave him quickly used access to nuzzle a pointed ear, "Can't you see? Do try to keep a civil tongue in my halls, will you?"

\--

He will never understand these dwarrows and their ridiculous oneupmanship and inability to take what they dish out. Bilbo glared at the bed through the crack in the bathing chamber door, rude is rude, Thorin Oakenshield! I appreciate that it was in defence of our *delicate sensibilities*, but, honestly love, you had it coming.

It had taken a good half-hour of waiting in naked ambush after even a long bath, but Thorin was finally snoozing. Bilbo grinned, feeling something like battle nerves wake his senses. He slipped his ring on and sneaked into the other room, carefully holding his ropes so the readied slipknots did not move. And though it had been some time since he'd had to sneak up to anything as deadly as a dragon, he'd kept the skill sharp by trailing Dwalin and Nori every so often.

Keeping an eye on his sprawled out as usual sleeping husband, he got a rope around each splayed wrist and its nearby bedpost. And then he dropped the ring on his night table and calmly climbed his way up on the bed. And Thorin woke, slowly since Bilbo's movements were normal, expected; desired. The hobbit managed to straddle his dwarf's waist and reach for both ropes to pull them tight before his game was discovered. 

"Ghivashel?"

Bilbo glared, ignoring the sleepy, surprised tone. "You *know* I don't appreciate you groping me in public to make a point at someone. Especially a point you know very well I don't agree with! Gloating is as bad a habit as letting your temper run your mouth. Now, you are going to keep your hands to yourself. You need to learn some manners! And since I can't trust you to do as you're told," he leaned over his wide-eyed but grinning mate to grip his rope-circled wrists, "You are going to have to suffer for it."

The word "suffer" quite obviously enticed Thorin far more than it scared him. How ever could his hobbit make him suffer, indeed?

"Just watch, my lover," Bilbo purred as he placed kisses down Thorin's chest, stomach, lower... that blessed cock was hard when he reached it, and he slowly took it into his mouth, with licks and light teeth dragging across the tip. 

Thorin pulled and strained to be free, to see... and moaned loudly, frustration and ecstasy both plain to hear, not used to being denied.

"I don't mind a touch of public fondling," Bilbo's hand wrapped around the tight sack below his mouth and fondled, slow and deliberate, "When you can't resist *me*. But not," he shifted one of Thorin's hips up slightly, his voice rising from calm whisper to annoyed growl, "To get a rise out of one of your blasted cousins!" With just enough room, he swung a hand down and smacked the exposed bit of cheek.

The sting Thorin felt was absolutely delicious and he hurried to earn himself another. "I'll have to remember to put you over *my* knee the next time you misbehave," he taunted, slightly amazed and entirely aroused at the thought of his so-proper mate drawn to such risqué behaviour. Wondering how far the hobbit would take it.

Bilbo sunk his teeth into the skin off Thorin's hip and then licked, feeling the fierce shudder of reaction, "And when do I ever disobey, my king?" But under the teasing, he'd seen the rather unexpected reaction Thorin was having to these little bits of violence; and he was suddenly tempted. And it was Thorin himself who had brought it up... Bilbo had only meant to make the point that he didn't appreciate Thorin's childish stunts. But... oh but to drive his brash husband to lose himself...

Thorin watched as his unmoving lover's eyes darkened, his breath beginning to pant on Thorin's skin as they stared at each other. And the thought of anything that would bring Bilbo to look at him like that...

"Turn over."

Thorin's eyes widened at the breathy whisper, looking at his tied and outstretched arms and then back at his lover.

"Turn. Over."

With a swallow, Thorin scooted high on the bed to get some slack on the ropes, then clumsily turned from the waist until he was laying on his stomach, arms now crossed and tight.

The contrastingly gentle fingers spreading his cheeks were a relaxing surprise, having half expected a hard slap. The splash of drizzled oil at his hole made him twitch, and huff, grinning into the pillow and automatically teasing, "Someone's impatient." The slow, firm, steady, *perfect* slide of Bilbo's slicked cock into his unstretched but eager body pushed his hips into the bed, the bed's pressure on his own cock and the pressure inside from Bilbo's intrusion delicious, forcing a groan right from his belly; barely aware of the uncomfortable position of his arms, now.

"And someone's enjoying it." Taking an instant to catch his breath and steady his self-control in the face of the amazing slick, TIGHT grip on his cock, Bilbo watched the flex the heavy muscles of Thorin's shoulders, pulled tight by those ropes. That strength could snap him in two...

His arm swung down, hard. Feeling the sting on his palm, he imagined it had to be worse from the other side, but he hardly had time to care as he felt the ass he was so thoroughly making *his* squeeze violently in response. He almost missed Thorin's shout in the middle of the jolt of pleasure. Oh! Oh that was- He stared, panting, at the redness blooming on that fine white skin next to his cock.

Still staring with blown eyes, he pulled his cock out just slightly, just enough to feel the hard stroke as he pushed back in. He noted, just barely, the moan from the body under his, noted the hips pushing back against him and then rocking to grind on the bed. And with a displeased hum, he reached down and gripped those hips, scooting forward and lifting as he muttered, "Up."

Once they were on their knees, Thorin's head resting on his hands gripping the headboard, Bilbo rocked in and out a tiny bit more, settling in the position, trying to ignore the lovely throaty whine of his very own dwarf king. Then he pulled out until he was just touching crinkled skin; asking for entry, except that there was no resistance and he had to hold himself against the edge of the rim to keep from sliding right back in. Then he dropped his other arm.

The sharp crack of sound was a strange satisfaction of its own, soothing buried temper, but the flutter of skin against his cockhead and the pleading hip jerk trying to tempt him in were better. 

Better even was the breathless cry in a voice that never got that high. And he thrust in hard, groaning at the clench dragging him deeper.

There were sights he could have imagined would drive him to shake with need all on their own, especially since he'd met the dwarf shivering under him right this moment, but trying to keep from finishing while he fucked his husband's ass hard and fast, he found it more than a little hard to believe that reddened ass cheeks could do this to him. 

Feeling the swell of pleasure getting too strong, he had to pull out, had to try to catch his breath. The wordless growl of displeasure he got didn't help, but he had to wait, just a few moments. Taking a supple handful in each palm, feeling twitching, and powerful, muscles, and *heat*.

"Beautiful." Did that hungry whisper really come from him?

He squeezed gently and pulled them just a little further apart, sliding his cock along the oiled crease just to see it laying between that red skin. Feeling Thorin jerking at his arms, Bilbo let go of a cheek without looking away. He couldn't say he was thinking when he swung his arm again, wasn't *really* meting out punishment. But it did stop his dwarf from hurting his arms.

And he could almost see his cock swelling at the breathy cry, had to push back into the swollen hole welcoming him. 

He would not last, he *could* not!

But he could feel Thorin so tightly wound around him, and he was feeling stubborn. Instead of reaching around and tugging Thorin over the edge, he set a steady, hard pace with his hips, one hand on Thorin's low back and the other raised, panting for air and listening to his mate's desperate moans. Waiting a moment to drop it. Then switching arms even as the ragged cry echoed in their chambers, waiting longer, eyes locked on his hand prints under Thorin's skin, his orgasm so close he could taste it with every thrust he gave that twitching hole.

When the third stroke hit, Thorin's body froze hard for several beats, and then he almost screamed and his hips convulsed, and Bilbo tried to grit his teeth and hold- And felt the wave of pleasure rush down his back and drown him.

When he could make himself move from where he'd let himself fall on Thorin's sweat-slick back, it caused his ever so stoic Khazad to grunt with a definite edge of pain. Scrambling upright as carefully as he could, Bilbo winced with him, freezing at the sight of a *very* red bum. Oh dear. He had, perhaps, been a bit excessive?? 

"Could you undo my arms, ghivashel?"

That Thorin hadn't turned himself over to relieve the pressure rather than have to ask told Bilbo quite enough about how sore his husband was and he hurried to undo the ropes, muttering apologies under his breath.

Thorin turned his head to send him a satisfaction-fogged smirk, "You've done nothing that requires apologies, my love. As a matter of fact, I would not begrudge you some gloating."

Bilbo snorted, stopping to give the freed left wrist a kiss, "I'm sure you wouldn't. Gloating is a very *bad* habit, husband! You should at least *try* to control it."

Slowly rising to his knees, Thorin leaned his head forward to lay a soft kiss on his grumbling lover's shoulder as he undid Thorin's other wrist, "If this is what gloating gets me, I have no intention of giving it up."

Bilbo glared at him as he watched Thorin begin to lay on his back and then very carefully change his mind and lay on his side. Confounded dwarf.

Nonetheless, he gave in, as usual, and lay down facing his frustrating husband. "I'm sure Óin has some ointment that would help."

Thorin reached for him and dragged him close, "I'm sure he does. Knowing that husband of his, he probably has a full jar in their rooms. If you ask him for such, however, when he sees me limp into council he will know who it was for. And he will tell his brother. And cousins. He might even tell *all* our cousins. So be aware of what you are inviting."

Bilbo let his forehead rest on Thorin's breastbone as he did indeed think it through. The teasing would spill over from Thorin to himself, one way or another. The boys would get into it. Dáin. Nori would *never* let it go... He groaned. On the other hand, what kind of husband would he be if he allowed his husband to suffer, as that poor red skin promised he would, while their friends *still* teased, albeit only about his sexual prowess rather than his perversions...

\--

Ignoring the breakfast getting cold on his plate, Nori took full advantage of the seat he'd chosen after Óin's cackling warning and stared at the stiffly-moving, wincing king and the grinning, blushing, hobbit that had just walked through the dining hall doors; and he smirked, wondering if he could sneak a side-trip to the Shire when he went to escort the first caravan of Durin's Folk from the Blue Mountains to Reclaimed Erebor. *Without* Dori tagging along. Surely there were other.. 'adventurous' hobbits. Bilbo would no doubt like the company of a compatriot....

Dáin, already curious at the way his cousin's old Company had been passing an obviously juicy story amongst each other, now watched in fascination as the Consort sat down to dig into his usual overflowing plate.. while the king remained *standing* at his shoulder, his plate in one hand and digging into it with the casual ease of someone having eaten around a campfire for many years. 

When their mutual cousins dragged Thorin away with evil smirks, Dáin did not try to stop himself getting up, grabbing the remains of his ale and walking over to take the empty seat next to the still enthusiastically eating hobbit.

"A good morning, I take it, Master Baggins?" He smiled brightly over the wary look of the suddenly still hobbit, "Just how do you render my cousin incapable of sitting? You must remember, I've seen his ass a few times over the last couple centuries, I've even kicked it a few times; and I know it is solidly made."

The narrowing of those large, usually so friendly, eyes was hardly threatening compared to even the mildest dwarf Dáin knew, nor the quiet voice, "I...I don't see how that's any of your business, your majesty."

Dáin shrugged, "I don't see what business has to do with it. I just want to know how so small a lad as yourself can fuck a beast such as Thorin until he is raw with pain."

Dáin's amused re-visiting of his cousin's docile pose just a few minutes ago came to a screeching halt when Erebor's Consort jumped up, his chair falling over behind him and a fulminating glare suddenly landing fully on Dáin.

"YOU-" the choked snarl was a bare decibel below a shriek, but it was the hand that Dáin saw reaching for a sword the hobbit was not wearing that made him calmly but warily stand and take a step back, his hands rising when the creature stalked him step for step, "If *you* wish to share the details of your wife's prowess in the bedchamber with your cousins, including my husband, I could not care less, though you may be certain she will know of it. But *you* will NOT seek to hear what passes between Thorin and I by ANY means! Nor impinge on my king's honour before others!"

Breathing hard with his fury, Bilbo was nonetheless still in control, still knew he had to be careful of threatening the dwarf king foolishly; had yelled at Thorin enough for just such foolishness... Knew, too, that he should not have reacted so harshly to teasing he'd known would come. But to hear anyone else discuss such things of his mate in such a tone... it had bit at him. This was not one of their friends whose loyalty and affection he trusted!

He dropped his voice to a whisper, though he could feel too many eyes on them, even through the blood rushing in his ears, and knew the room had to be far too silent to keep any words private, "Or I WILL make you suffer, do not doubt me for a MOMENT," he bared his teeth, not caring how un-hobbitish he was behaving, he was *defending* his hobbitish ways! As well as the honour of *his* dwarf. ..Perhaps he was even protecting his own and his king's standing with this other dwarf king, all things considered. "I know what it is to stand in the face of death, Dáin Ironfoot, to protect what I love," his eyes flickered briefly up to Thorin's, who he'd felt appear at his shoulder seconds after he'd begun shouting at a guest in their home, and he saw understanding dawn on Dáin's face. Odd that he did not know of that bit of the quest. Bilbo did not let his glare dim, though, "Do not pry into affairs you have no privilege to. I protect what is mine!"

The sudden clatter of Edda's feet scrambling toward them was halted, no doubt by some quick-thinking member of the Company. And Dáin's sardonic glance over Bilbo's shoulder, beyond Thorin, told the hobbit well enough that the dwarrows that had destroyed his pantry were standing ready to destroy Erebor's dining hall, should he give any indication that he would suddenly be lenient toward such behaviour.

Luckily, Dáin chose to give him a quick bow instead, "My apologies, Consort, cousin. No insult was intended. My Ania has often warned me that my curiosity would get worse than my foot cut off, one of these days. My choice of locale and words was unwise. It will not happen again."

"If you are so curious, cousin, I am certain Bilbo would be more than pleased to give your luscious Ania instructions."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this redux was brought about by [this *delightful* picture](http://th04.deviantart.net/fs70/200H/f/2013/176/6/6/thilbo___private_afterparty_by_pranksterloki-d6aoyqu.jpg) [by pranksterloki](http://pranksterloki.deviantart.com/)

"But I was *not* gloating!"

Bilbo rolled his eyes, not pausing his growling stomp forward, one hand pressed to Thorin's sternum; not pushing, because the king was stepping back without encouragement. Too annoyed at having to force a smile on his face and be sweet to that coldly arrogant wood-elf for the last several days to bother responding to the grinning whine. And all because a certain dwarf felt the need to snicker when he overheard the woodland realm's dungeons' security being mentioned.

When the back of Thorin's thighs encountered a sun-splashed boulder, he stopped, and Bilbo took a quick glance around them to be sure that they were at least well out of sight, even if he knew they were still far too close to the elves' gate to be doing this... But he was tired, annoyed at his husband, and generally grumpy, and they still had a week of negotiations to go before he could plead having to monitor the harvest and escape.

And Thorin was not objecting.

Was, actually, staring at him with flared nostrils and darkened eyes, a challenge in the smirk curling his lips and in the majestic tilt of his chin. 

Letting his eyes take a slow stroll down his dwarf's tree-trunk-thick body, Bilbo husked in the forest's quiet, "Lower your trousers. Then turn and lean on that rock."

If he weren't such a level-headed, albeit unquestionably perverted, hobbit, watching a proud dwarf king do his bidding, even while standing his sword against the boulder in his usual precaution, might turn him into a very foolish fellow indeed. As it was, Bilbo allowed himself to get quite focused on thick fingers working the intricate clasp on that heavy square belt buckle, and then those same shockingly deft fingers separating and tugging at the laces of trousers finer and tighter than his love would wear at home.

His nose twitched, annoyingly obvious, at the hip-tilt toward him that sent the material downward, with the fine, thin, smalls following, before being caught by a quick hand at thigh level and kept steady, for an instant exposing a nest of coarse curls until a rumpled tunic bottom covered it. Then, with the shuffle of dwarven boots, that too was replaced by the view of skin that had likely never seen the sun before as Thorin leaned forward to rest his forearms on the stone, allowing the trousers to drop to his knees.

Stepping up and palming the pale, hairy skin of his husband's very well-shaped ass, Bilbo pouted as Thorin's tunic fell and covered the sight. He pulled back before grumbling, "Armour and tunic off."

He saw his dwarf stiffen and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Orcrist is right next to your hand, love, and Sting is at my waist. There have been no reports of orcs in the whole region in two months, and the spiders have retreated from the wood. We are safe enough this close to the Woodland Realm's gates." He held back the added note that surely having his trousers around his legs would be more of an impediment to defence than lacking his armour.

It took a few moments more, but Thorin finally nodded and silently straightened, pulling a familiar small bottle from a hidden tunic pocket and setting it next to Orcrist before pulling his upper garments over his head. Laying them next to him, neatly enough to slip into quickly, he leaned back over without acknowledging the grateful kiss Bilbo pressed to his shoulder blade. To know that Thorin trusted him not only in their play, but also to defend them, that was... very good for his politics-worn soul. 

Belying his awareness of the afternoon dragging them toward the evening's further diplomatic demands, Bilbo let his hands bask in all the lovely skin getting warmed and bronzed by the softening sun, pulled taut over wide muscles, feeling smooth even while he could see the hair dusting it; one of the few parts of Thorin's body that didn't show a lifetime of damage. He sighed with sensual pleasure, smiling in appreciation, "We should do this more often."

The wry look Thorin slanted him through the curtain of his hair made him snort, "I meant have your lovely skin out in the warm sun for the pleasure of my eyes."

Ignoring the low mutter of no doubt crude response, Bilbo shifted to stand at an angle, his crotch pleasingly pressed to one ass cheek, giving himself better access to half the flesh that had been offered to repay his strained patience. He left one hand to its appreciation of his husband's muscled behind, and reached the other forward, wrapping it gently around the soft cock hanging freely in the quiet forest, fingering it undemandingly. 

Leaning down to kiss a rune inked into the middle of Thorin's back, Bilbo breathed deep, the mid-summer-dry smell of the slowly healing Greenwood mixed with his dwarf's darker musk. Pressing his lips to the nearby bumps of Thorin's spine, Bilbo took a last gentle rubbing squeeze at cheeky flesh, then dreamily raised his hand just enough to give a barely stinging pat to the underside.

The immediate response of the cock he was still holding oh so casually was shockingly arousing. As well as reassurance that this was indeed something that pleased his mate, however unorthodox.

Rocking his own waking cock against its resting place, he very slowly fisted Thorin's, listening to his breathing begin to deepen. The fingertips of the other hand tickled at the sack hanging below their soon-to-be-red playground. After just a few firm strokes to the taut stretch of skin above that, Bilbo raised his hand, never changing the speed of his fist, feeling his belly tighten in shameful anticipation. 

This time it was a definite slap, still to the meaty underside, right on the crease hiding secrets he had every intention of plundering, his palm stinging with the pinch of skin. Shuddering to feel the cock in his grip go fully hard all at once, listening to the almost shocked-sounding grunt.

He let go of the now-hard cock; whispered, breath tight in his throat, "Bite your hand if you must, but you need to be quiet. Fine elven ears will hear if you cry out, and come running to rescue you." He palmed the cheek he wasn't grinding himself on, fingertips stroking at the pinkening circle his palm had caused, "Or watch.." And he was not willing to share this sight.

He looked up at a movement, seeing Thorin's arms shift so a wrist lay under his parted lips. Bilbo raised his hand and dropped it quickly, right in the middle of the exposed cheek, seeing lips close tight on that wrist, bare hint of a cry escaping. 

He slid his spread hand over that perfectly-sized hunk of flesh, thumb sliding off into the tight crease, gliding teasingly for a moment. As he brought his hand up again, he watched that crease part, muscles moving under the skin. Thick, strong muscles, so lovely. Sweetest invitation.

When his hand slapped down, fingers together rather than spread, it was right on that pleading crevasse of skin, his fingertips grazing the uneven surface of the sack before taping at the skin above it, palm smacking on the edges of the mounds, right over a wrinkled patch, and he shuddered, panting with the need to do more than tease -soon. oh soon, yes. He didn't wait for the definite choked cry to fade before dropping his hand again, nearly on the hip this time, then back low on the meaty cheek, letting a finger trail again on the now wide-open crease. Feverishly swinging his stare from red skin glowing in the sun, to that twitching pink furl, wishing the muffled cries were free, wanting to hear the pleasure at the bottom of them, that it might mix with his.

This time when he slapped down in the centre, he trailed through and stopped to stroke back and forth over that twitching bit of skin, hazily wishing he'd drizzled some oil before they'd started, rocking himself steadily against his rest, whining softly, mind utterly focused on the dwarf shuddering constantly, now, and unmistakenly pushing into Bilbo's rough touch. He was aware that he was aroused, but it was distant, his attention locked on his mate's mixed pain and pleasure. 

Another such smack and Thorin definitely whimpered, hips tilting desperately for contact, for more, and Bilbo husked roughly, breath tight, "Would you finish like this? All but untouched?" he stroked another finger, deliberately too-lightly along the crease, "You are beautiful as you quake through your pleasure. I could watch you-" fingers rubbed with stiff gentleness on the edge of the slowly opening hole, his gaze hypnotized until he crouched down without thought to lick, barely hearing the choked shout, saliva coming quick and hungry, "I would watch you.. And then take you, all loose and weak-" he reached from his crouch to swat at the side, more thigh than ass, before rising, hurrying to press himself again. Finding himself, without planning, grinding on the cheek he'd just put much effort to make red and sore. "Take you so hard, all sore skin and sensitive." He swatted again, aiming oh so deliberately, moaning at the sight of that now-glistening, begging, hole. Fingers immediately sliding in on left-behind saliva, husking as he stared hungrily, "Is that what you wish?" Back and forth on slick, twitching skin.

Hips pushing at his hand jerkily and he had to, absolutely HAD to look up, up along that taut back, and shoulders and arms, head pushing into fists; then a clenched-jawed hiss, "Yesss."

Bilbo moaned to hear that admission, making himself take a deep breath and actually think, having already regretted once the lack of oil. Tapping hardly-there touches with the one hand to keep the skin aglow as he fumbled his trouser laces to free himself before clumsily reaching for that little bottle of oil he'd long ago decided to be grateful for rather than argue propriety with his frequently randy, and arousing, husband. He managed to drizzle some oil on himself and give his cock a single stroke to spread it, whimpering softly, and then set the bottle aside. 

With sharp anticipation, he drew his hand back again, bringing it down on the still pale cheek now exposed. 

Jerking so far away from the sting on untouched skin that Bilbo almost stumbled forward from losing his lean-to, Thorin's whole body stiffened and the pant of his breath became almost louder than most of his bitten-off cries. Reading a plea in that unmoving arch of a back, Bilbo set his feet and sent his hand slapping with actual strength, low and centre, staring hungrily as muscles clenched harder and harder, until on the fourth hard smack a rolling flinch whipped the now distinctly red flesh away. And even a mouthful of wrist barely kept that roar buried.

And Bilbo stumbled to stand behind directly Thorin without waiting for him to recover, grabbed at both abused cheeks, pulling the hips up from their weakly drooping position and parting them to rub his oiled cock on the hidden entrance a bare few strokes before needing to push in and feel the quivering of the muscles under his palms from the inside, the whining cries and attempts to jerk away ignored. "Ohhhh Mahal. So easy. So hot-" he bit back a moan and the babble. Holding the hips still trying to collapse and settling into a steady rhythm, no resistance offered him.

"Bilbo." The shaky gasp was no complaint, only affection and encouragement

"Ummmmm. Good. So good.." loose, but twitching on him as he went, hips jerking against him as he bottomed out against that sore skin, his pace slow and steady; his body and mind both too tense from having waited and watched, Thorin too loose in his undone state, his own pleasure half drowned from watching Thorin finish. 

Minutes of that steady pace filled him with slow stoking heat, staring at that shinny sweat-slick flexing back bracing for his every thrust, a whine starting in Thorin's throat as he began to tighten around the hobbit, "Bilbo. I- ah Mahal.."

And Bilbo's eyes widened and he husked, "What do you need?"

"Fast. Please-" 

And Bilbo shifted his angle to find that sweet spot in his sweet dwarf, and began to thrust fast, as requested, suddenly hard-pressed to keep from finishing right this instant. But within a handful of the short movements, Thorin was giving sharp little exclamations with every painful breath, shuddering and clenching oh terribly tight, "Ah- ah- ah- hnn"

Oh that muffled wail was far too much for anyone to take and the heat was pouring through his balls to fill the tight body gripping him until only clenching his jaw held back his cries, or stand the painfully good squeeze on too-sensitive flesh, and had to pull out, bare thread of memory sending his elbows and forearms on the solid back before him, keeping himself from collapsing down on sore flesh.

\--

"Feel better?"

When Bilbo looked up from slowly retying his trouser laces, the indulgent grin aimed at him by the dwarf moving very lazily indeed, like the satisfied great cat he was, to shrug his upper-body layers back on was belied by the worried frown around the watchful eyes, and Bilbo reached up to interrupt and share a soft kiss. Puling back only enough to lean their foreheads together, he sighed, "Yes." And he did. The coiled tension from being the polite mediator between the two arrogant kings had, indeed, finally dissolved.

And then the implication of the words registered and he looked up with a glare, "You set this up *deliberately*??"

Thorin's smile turned into a serious expression, nodding candidly, "Yes. You have more than once dragged me out of grim moods with pleasures of the flesh. If you will not ask for this, my gentle hobbit, I would be a poor mate not to offer you the means." He jerked his head toward the elves' gates, "I know I lean on you a great deal in these matters, and wear on your patience."

Releasing a deep breath, Bilbo made himself accept that his husband could have chosen other pleasures. The spatters drying on their handy boulder shouted Thorin's bliss beyond any hurt. "I'm glad to be useful to your kingdom, you know that."

"..Our kingdom."

\--

A quick wash and a change of clothes and they had to present themselves for the pre-dinner socializing. In response to Bilbo's pleading look, Thorin bit his tongue and sipped his wine rather than say a word to the elves that dared converse with him, and otherwise concentrated on standing casually. Unfortunately, once the company was called to the dining room, it was to a formal table. And Thorin, of course, utterly refused to give the tree-shaggers the least reason to smirk, so he sat down on the unpleasantly hard wooden chairs rather than standing and accepting teasing as he would have in Erebor. But even he could not keep a thread of a flinch from flickering across his features when he let his weight rest on his well-used ass.

"What did you do now, father??"

Thorin spun his head to gap at his daughter's knowing smile.

"Edda, not in public, little one," Balin muttered from her other side, smiling and shrugging at the few other guests who'd turned at her bright voice.

"Oh," his sweet, hobbit-trained, girl frowned at Thorin and lowered her voice, "Sorry."

Thorin could feel the heat in his cheeks and knew he had to be bright red, barely able to be grateful that Bilbo, at his side, was in deep conversation with the prince on his other side.

He choked lowly, "She- tell me she does not actually know-"

The sardonic look Balin gave him left him sputtering.

"Your majesty? Are you injured?"

Balin, traitor that he was, looked away from his pleading eyes. Leaving Thorin to slowly turn his head and face the innocently worried eyes of Thranduil's get. And his own husband's half-guilty half-worried look.

"I am quite fine, prince." Bilbo's darkening look warned him and he added, "But thank you for the concern."

The annoyingly innocent-seeming eyes of the elf gave him a still-worried look but took on a surprising diplomatic slant and turned to his other neighbour, leaving Bilbo watching Thorin with growing guilt. 

Softening for his too-gentle hobbit, Thorin leaned to whisper in his ear, "I am perfectly fine, my love. And I will be most pleased to prove it to you when we get to our quarters, later." Bilbo gently rubbed Thorin's leg under the table and Thorin's hand covered his and squeezed. 

\-- 

Later that night, when the family retired to their quarters, they sat on either side of Edda on the couch, Bilbo and Edda having insisted on bring soft pillows as extra cushioning, for everyone so no one felt singled-out, and had another lesson in politics versus family; or, 'what subjects can be brought up in what company'. Bilbo wished Thorin would listen half as well to 'when threats and insults are acceptable in what company'.

Suitably apologetic for embarrassing her father, their girl gave hugs and kisses and snuggled up, enjoying this time alone. She finally settled her head happily on Thorin's shoulder and Bilbo snuggled into her other side. "I like it here," she said, playing with the rings on her papa's hand. When Thorin gave a non-committal grunt, Bilbo shot him a warning glance. "But," she added, unaware of the byplay, "I think I'm ready to go home. Can we go home soon?" 

Thorin placed a kiss on her head, Bilbo melting for that soft look that Edda brought to his eyes when he was relaxed and so obviously at peace from all the sorrows of his broken family. "Of course, Thorinul...the day after tomorrow."

Bilbo's brows rose, torn between surprise and annoyance, "Will negotiations be done?" Because it certainly hadn't been Bilbo's comments that had caused day-long arguments...

The guileless bright-eyed look Thorin sent him reminded him far too much of princes sending him to steal from trolls. "We need to get our girl home... we'll leave the day after tomorrow." 

Bilbo nodded blandly. Well, he could at least cash in on his lover's earlier promise before facing a dwarf bent on diplomacy, "Shall we retire then, my loves?"


End file.
